Four Conversations
by Sorciere
Summary: Ironhide tries to get used to his human allies. Lennox learns that you can only balance two loyalties for so long before you have to choose - and then live with the consequences. Slight AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Four Conversations That Ironhide Had With William Lennox... and One That He Didn't (Yet)

**Rating:** PG-13 for a few curse words, Cybertronian and human.

**Disclaimer:** Nothing in here is mine. Can't even claim English as my first language, so there.

**Warnings:** Spoilers for RotF, but not the books or comics, most of which I haven't read and will cheerfully ignore. Two of the conversations are set between the movies, one during RotF, and two after.

**Summary:** Ironhide tries to get used to his human allies. Lennox learns that you can only balance two loyalties for so long before you have to choose. Slight AU near the end of it.

**A/N:** The fifth conversation was inspired by Steelfeathers' awesome fic Instability, because her writing and the idea of Sam as an honorary Cybertronian triggered some very insistent bunnies. She's a fantastic author, so go read that fic if you haven't already. It's That Good and this fic will still be here when you're done.

****

1.

****

It took some time for Ironhide to get used to working closely with humans. They were small and fragile and organic and didn't have a very long lifespan and he did not comprehend Bumblebee's willingness to stay with a human – and one that was barely more than a sparkling, at that.

Thus, when Optimus Prime - much to Ironhide's annoyance - had insisted that they became acquainted with these new allies, Ironhide had responded with a grumbling sound that could, with some generosity, have been interpreted as "Lennox" and that was the end of that. The human in question's agreement was implied as Ironhide's expression had left little room to argue, but he had still been satisfied at the human's obvious glee as he was informed of it.

The human was a soldier with an obvious fondness for destructive weaponry and that spoke well of him. The fact that he had been willing to take on Blackout only cemented this fact, and if Ironhide had to put up with a human, it could at least be a tolerable and useful one, as this one shaped up to be.

For one, Lennox did not seem to think there was such a thing as 'overkill' on the training ground where Ironhide kept his cannons and aim in proper shape (his exact words, Ironhide's memory processors informed him, had been "Holy shit!" followed by "Do that again!"), nor did he waste much time with unnecessary questions. Ironhide was an ally, if a much larger one that happened to be made of metal, and that was the end of it. Lennox' questions revolved mostly around military subjects, as was appropriate for their situation, and Ironhide approved of that.

It didn't hurt that the human could keep a secret and when Ironhide used the body of a recently offlined 'Con for an impromptu lesson in Decepticon anatomy for his new human charge, the only reaction had been a flash of surprise followed by close attention. It was a 'Con, in Ironhide's logic, and its body might as well be useful for once in its worthless existence before it was properly disposed of. He would have been unwilling to share the same knowledge with the rest of their human allies, untested as most of them were, but his particular human had a sense of honour. If this knowledge would one day come to be used against them, it would not be at Lennox's hand.

"We need better weapons," the human finally breathed, and he looked caught somewhere between worry and admiration. Ironhide couldn't fault the man in that. It was the first time he had been given the chance to get a proper look at their new enemy outside of battle, and human weapons were not made for use against Cybertronian enemies.

Hands carefully touched a piece of shoulder plating, careful to avoid anything that might cause a human body harm, then tugged experimentally on the edge of it.

"Better weapons or a lot better aim," Lennox continued. "There are weak spots but it's blind luck if we manage to hit those in a battle. We need a lot better weapons for this."

Ironhide nodded and let the human continue his careful evaluation and for a moment he was reminded of nothing more than a curious sparkling. He huffed at the mental image that produced, and the human looked at him questioningly before he returned to the Decepticon body.

Still avoiding the hazardous results of broken wires and twisted metal, he leaned closer and stretched to step over a puddle of coolant and Energon and oil and whatever else had been torn from the 'Con's body at Ironhide's killing shot. "Definitely weak spots, though," the human mused and Ironhide listened, curious about his conclusions. "Cut some of these wires, and the whole arm would probably go." A pause before he continued. "Shit, with less fragile bodies we might even have been able to take them on. We're a lot smaller, but that body there was mostly intended to defend against something of the same size as itself. There are plenty of places to target it... It's just the problem of getting close enough without dying."

"All species have their weaknesses," Ironhide agreed. He was about to continue when the human spoke again and Ironhide felt actual surprise to hear the human's words echo his own thoughts.

"And we should probably dump this wherever it belongs before Optimus Prime starts to wonder where the hell we are." There was a bit of regret in his voice – you could never know too much about your enemy, after all – but then he shook it off. "Thank you, 'Hide. I appreciate it. Gotta know what we're up against."

Ironhide nodded. "We are allies," he replied as Lennox stepped aside and he took a firm grip on the offlined body. It didn't take much to haul it across the wide expanse of concrete and hide it underneath a sheet of plastic – they would lock the hangar and the body would stay there until it was convenient to dispose of it, away from curious eyes.

Lennox waited by the door and watched as he approached and there was something in his stance that made Ironhide give him an inquiring look. It looked like hesitation and the human's voice confirmed it when he spoke.

"If there's anything I can help you with – anything at all – let me know," he said. "You're right, we're allies, and having the higher-ups bitch isn't going to change a thing. I know you have my back. That's good enough for me."

Ironhide kneeled carefully and held down a hand to the human and it was a credit to his trust in them that he simply stepped into the offered hand and held on to one finger as Ironhide rose again. Humanity might be an ally now, he realised, but it was not the proper term for someone who fought and killed and might one day die at your side.

"Brothers in arms, then," the mech concluded and the human nodded his approval of the term.

****

2.

****

Ironhide suspected that his human charge wasn't consciously aware of it, but his language had increasingly started to mirror the Cybertronian one. It was not a language meant to be spoken by human voice processors, and the Autobots spoke English around their allies out of politeness and respect, but their expressions still echoed the language of their birth. Human curses as a whole made little sense to a species of mechs and so they used English translations of the Cybertronian curses they were used to.

Lennox, who spent as much time with them as any human did, had started to pick up on that. Little things but unmistakeably there. Not much, usually, but sometimes...

"Blow it out your afterburners, scrapheads," the human muttered and sent the papers in his hand a dark glare before he threw them on his desk with a disgusted look. "Slag you, too."

Ironhide, with a sensor trained on Lennox from habit alone, pause in his maintenance routine and tilted his head questioningly. He didn't need to ask. Lennox had developed a keen awareness of his guardian and noticed the gesture immediately and sighed, running a hand through his hair as he crossed the room to the weapons specialist.

"I hate politics. Slagging aftheads don't get what we're doing here. We're in the middle of an alien war, and they play politics and complain about procedures and secrets and the only slagging allies we have in this war."

"Killing them would make their successors more cooperative," Ironhide suggested and it was a testament to the human's frustration that he actually seemed to consider it for a moment before he sighed again.

"It would give us too much paperwork to be worth it. That sort of people never learn. There'll always be new ones to take their place."

Responding to cues only known to the two of them, Ironhide picked up the Ranger and put him gently on the Cybertronian-sized table and Lennox sat down, one leg dangling over the edge. "How's the upgrade doing?"

Ironhide patted one cannon affectionately. "Very well," he responded. "I get first shot at the next 'Con we find. We won't need a second shot."

Lennox grinned, and his fingers danced restlessly against the table to a happy little tune only he could hear. "I do love a well-armed ally."

Ironhide paused at that, the human's curses not forgotten, and then he shrugged slightly. "There are those who would disagree."

"Slagging idiots," Lennox said darkly. "If they had it their way, we would have been overrun by 'Cons by now. Stupidity in powerful positions. They would have handed Megatron the world on a platter."

"Good thing, then, that we have allies with common sense to fight back," Ironhide said carefully and considered his next words. Subtle had never been his strong suit, and in the end he simply asked what had made him wonder rather than skirt around the issue. "Not all approve of our presence here. Some might claim you have grown too close to us to be loyal to your military anymore."

In any other case, Lennox would have bristled at the insinuation, but not now.

"Politics," he sighed. "You're our allies. You've risked your life for us. We've done the same for you. Of course we've grown close." A pause, then frustration. "Sometimes it feels like I spend more time juggling politics than fighting actual 'Cons."

"Prime would agree with you," Ironhide rumbled, but there was a bit of amusement in his voice. "You curse in our language, Major Lennox. You can't speak Cybertronian but you use the English translations of it."

Lennox looked sheepish at that. "It's not on purpose, and Sarah's said she'd have my balls if Annabelle starts to do the same." He shrugged. "We live around your guys. I guess it was bound to rub off."

"As the Internet does to us," Ironhide added dryly.

Lennox snorted. "That, too." He fell silent and Ironhide could almost physically feel the shift in the human's mood as brown eyes met blue optics and lips formed a wry smile. "And when we finally get a lock on Starscream, it would be nice to piss him off in terms he understands. If he wants us dead, we might as well give him a reason."

A nice reminder that this human knew perfectly well what they were facing, even if his politicians did not.

"Sam's their main target, he's always going to be, but..."

Lennox trailed off and Ironhide finished the sentence for him. "But you humiliated the 'Cons when you shot Blackout and you are the ranking human in the field with us. You will be a target for that."

Lennox shrugged at that. "Yeah. Just means I've done something right, I guess." He snorted. "At least they don't want me as a pet. Poor kid. He still has nightmares about that one."

It was not something Ironhide could identify with on any other level than disgust at Megatron's actions, and so he simply watched as Lennox stretched and gave him a pointed look. "So, you going to show off that upgraded baby eventually, or do we have to kidnap you when you're in recharge to get a look?"

Ironhide recognised a change of topic when he saw it and the dark mech smirked and held out a hand to the human. "I did see some offending rocks when I last ventured outside. We should rectify that."

Lennox grinned and accepted the invitation.

****

3.

****

Ironhide knew Lennox was up to something almost as soon as Lennox himself did. There were advantages to keeping a sensor trained on his human charge, after all.

For a moment Ironhide cursed the lack of a private communication line with the human, then threw in some choice words about the stupidity of the new humans on base that, unfortunately, were also not stupid enough to neglect keeping them all under surveillance, and then he snarled one final time and stomped over to Lennox, because no one was currently stupid enough to try and stop him.

He didn't transform into his alt-mode. He was not going to pack his cannons away for any amount of Energon.

Lennox looked up as he approached, and Ironhide reached down with one hand, inviting the human to step into it.

"We should discuss a proper Cybertronian burial," he growled. The voice was mostly for the benefit of the new humans, and it had the intended effect as several of them took half a step back and raised their weapons slightly.

Ironhide huffed, causing several more nervous looks, and then Lennox waved them aside and stepped into the offered hand. "It's fine. He's not going to do anything." Then, looking up at his guardian as the hand rose, he added, "And yes, we should."

Making sure his human wouldn't fall, Ironhide stomped away again and he could feel the tension in the human's stance fade slightly as they moved out of hearing range of unwanted listeners.

"We got coordinates. Egypt," Lennox said before Ironhide could ask. "From Sam. Through Simmons, so they wouldn't get tracked. He thinks they might have a chance of bringing Optimus back."

_Primus._

If they could have brought Jazz back, they would have, but the human sparkling did have the All-Spark in his mind, and maybe...

"It can be done?"

Lennox took a deep breath. "Sam seems to think so. If you agree... We're due back at Diego Garcia, but the pilots are on our side and I outrank them. We could pull it off."

_Optimus._

He should talk with Ratchet, but he already suspected what the answer would be. The human carried knowledge none of them knew the limits of. If he thought there was any chance at all to bring their Prime back, however small that chance might be...

"We have to try. If the boy is willing to risk it, we will do nothing less."

Lennox nodded and if he had any reservations about it all, they didn't show. "I'll get things settled with my team, then. With all the slag going on, we can pull it off. Before Galloway realises something's wrong, we'll be in Egypt, and after that, it's up to the kid." He paused. "I'll send a message to General Morshower when we're airborne. The 'Cons will find us there, they're not that stupid. We can try to hide, but we'll need the backup if we're spotted, and he has our back."

Ironhide nodded and was drawing up a mental list of things to be done even before Lennox had finished speaking. They had little time to prepare, but that would work in their favour. They were Autobots. They had everything they needed for this mission with them already.

There was the sound of a faint whistle, and human and mech turned their heads in unison to see Epps waving in the distance.

Reacting to another of those silent cues that they had developed through time and close proximity, William Lennox reached out to steady himself against one large metal finger even as Ironhide began to walk back to the group of humans near the buildings. The NEST team was prepared to back them in this. All his human charge needed now was the Autobots' confirmation that the plan was a go.

"We will be ready," he stated, and gave it.

****

4.

****

His cooling fans were a low hum against the noise of the carrier, working steadily as he lay sprawling in the sunlight. There was little shade to be found that wasn't already crowded and Ironhide was not a small mech.

He wouldn't always have bothered, but now they kept the temperature of his shielding tolerable to humans, and at the moment, that was a serious concern to Ironhide. There was sand and rocks and fragments of who-knew-what stuck in joints and coating wires and starting to clog part of his cannons, and while he could have spent the rest of the day getting rid of all that desert slag on his own, he was not going to refuse when someone offered to help.

Hence the cooling fans and hence one Army Ranger resting against his chest plating as he carefully cleaned out the miniature desert that had settled in Ironhide's shoulder joints. There were, Ironhide had realised, advantages to being that small. Not enough to make up for the squishiness and the lack of shielding and all, but still advantages.

"You need a bath," Lennox muttered, mostly to himself, "Gets rid of this slag like you wouldn't believe."

"I don't float," Ironhide stated, because there was nothing wrong with his audio receivers, and humans looked silly when they were talking to themselves.

"Didn't stop Megatron." Another mutter, and a handful of pebbles was dropped into the bucket at Lennox's side to join the other pounds of desert landscape they had collected so far. "If there's any justice in the world, those goddamn 'Cons will spend the rest of their miserable existence digging sand out of their afts."

A very short remaining miserable existence, if Ironhide had anything to say about it. They had lost comrades in the battle. Regained some, too, but lost even more. The Decepticons had much to answer to, and having their Prime back acutely reminded Ironhide of just how much more they could have lost. They had been fortunate, but it had still come at a loss, and Ratchet would be busy for a good while yet with the wounded. Ironhide, tougher than just about anyone, had been patched up to a point where he could function again and then Ratchet had turned to the other wounded and Ironhide had been given strict orders to submit to a full repair once the emergencies were taken care of. Ratchet hadn't liked it, of course, but they had many injured and they both knew that Ironhide, with the major issues fixed, could wait until things calmed down again. Lennox, with no proper shielding as Ironhide saw it, was under orders to rest and take it easy for the remainder of their trip to Diego Garcia. His injuries were normal for humans. Bruises, a sprained ankle, and a mild concussion that the human claimed was already gone again. It could have been worse. Much worse.

"They should dig fast, then," Ironhide stated. "They will not live long."

Lennox stayed silent and continued his patient cleaning of the wide expanse of mech body. He would have used a hose at home, but this was an aircraft carrier and giving the Autobot a soak was a matter of convenience more than necessity. They could give him a better scrub when they got back on dry land.

Shoulder joint finished, he shifted and turned his attention to the chest plates instead, and Ironhide heard the long, slow inhalation of air from the human. His sensors revealed nothing out of the ordinary but Lennox answered his question before he could ask.

"Salt. Fresh air. Metal, oil, Energon..." The voice trailed off and soft hands patted his arm. "Just glad to have you here, 'Hide."

They could have left the planet. Ironhide would have missed the human if they had done so, and knew the feeling would have been mutual. Humans were more obvious about their feelings, even those in the military. Lennox had fought for them. He would not have taken their departure lightly.

"The sentiment is mutual, Will."

They fell silent as the human continued the patient post-battle routine that had almost become a ritual, and Ironhide's sensors followed their own rituals as well, scanned the human repeatedly to reaffirm the presence of an ally in his mind and ensure that his awareness of this small brother in arms was as strong as it could be. It made it easier to pinpoint the human's location in battle and avoid injuring him on accident.

It was not an unpleasant task. It was much like reaching out to a companion or bonding with Autobot comrades at whose side he had fought and bled. William Lennox did not have the same spark as Cybertronians, nor did he possess the same ability to talk through data transmissions, but it was a pleasant connection nonetheless and Ironhide was not averse to it.

"How is Chromia?" Lennox finally asked.

Chromia, who was not high on Ratchet's list of patients, but whose sisters most certainly had been. Chromia, who had a firm place in Ironhide's spark, and the large gunner made a sound that could almost be interpreted as a sigh. "Improving," he said, "Now that her sisters are. It is the nature of close bonds."

Lennox nodded and fell silent again as he dug out a particularly stubborn bit of rock that had jammed under one piece of shielding. Ironhide moved obediently as his human nudged his arm, and a few struggling moments later, the rock came loose with a sharp sound and landed a few feet away.

It, too, ended up in the bucket, and Ironhide relaxed again. That particular one had annoyed him for a while now, and he could feel human fingers brush the plating lightly where it had been.

"Looks good to me," Lennox reported. "Not a scratch. Way to go, alien paint job."

Ironhide huffed, and fell silent as the human continued his work, and finally he said what he had been considering since the battle in Egypt.

"You took a considerable risk to bring us here." A pause. "Thank you."

He felt Lennox go still at his side before those hands started working again. "You're friends. I trust you. You've saved my aft in battle before, and Optimus Prime died to protect one of us. If there was any chance at all that we might bring him back, we had to take it."

"Against orders," Ironhide pointed out, and Lennox shrugged even as Ironhide's sensors confirmed the continued tension in the human's body.

"Shaving sucks when you can't look yourself in the eyes." The Major tried for a joke but it fell flat and he sighed, suddenly sounding tired. "What's done is done, 'Hide. I'll manage. It's part of the job."

There was a reason why Ironhide had chosen to stay with this particular human, and now he was reminded of that again. A soldier in a highly unusual situation, but a soldier nonetheless, and sometimes you did things for your brothers in arms that would get the scrap heaped on you to keep your comrades safe. Ironhide had plenty of scars that spoke of taking plasma blasts and laser fire so someone else didn't have to.

What Lennox had done was no different and Ironhide could respect that.

Patient hands began their work again, and the two beings fell silent. What Lennox was thinking, Ironhide could not know, but the mech had his suspicions and his own processors circled around the same.

Ironhide himself could do nothing. But he knew someone who might.

****

5.

****

Optimus Prime was silent when Ironhide found him, watching the night sky from the deck of the carrier with no clouds to block the starlight. He hadn't been hard to find. A soundless conversation had let him know where to find his commander, and Ironhide had suspected where even before initialising contact. The boy was recharging – asleep, a part of Ironhide's mind corrected, but he didn't particularly care – and so were most of the rest of the humans, leaving their Prime free of the various debriefings.

"Ironhide." The voice was the same as always, commanding and concerned and that core of power, and Ironhide tipped his head slightly in respect. He hadn't done that before, but this was different. Their Prime had died and been revived and on some level, Ironhide's processors were still reeling.

Ironhide didn't bother with niceties. The humans would still be up soon, and then they would be busy once more and his questions would have to wait again. "You have talked of making the boy a ward of Cybertron."

Silence as their Prime focused his optics on the heavy gunner and seemed to consider where the statement might lead. "Even more so now," Optimus Prime confirmed. "With all that has happened... For better or for worse, his destiny is tied with ours. I fear we might one day no longer be able to protect him in their hands. To remove him from his home may one day be the lesser of two evils. It will remove any human claim on him, and there are undesirable specimens among them, even as there are among us."

Sector Seven, neither of them said, and didn't have to, and they both knew perfectly well that even with that factor out of the game, there would still be others who would want nothing more than get their hands on the boy who had lived and died and lived again and carried the All-Spark in his mind.

"Eventually," Prime continued, "It may be our only remaining option."

Ironhide nodded and Optimus Prime stayed silent and simply watched his weapon specialist. There was a flicker of something in his optics, a slight shift of armour, and then the mech raised his head slightly, optics narrowed in near-defiance. "I wish for Major Lennox to be included in that agreement," he stated and there was no yield in his voice. "Slag 'eventually'. The boy will have time before people stop running about like headless drones, but Lennox doesn't. Put him in the agreement and make slagging sure you don't have an extradition treaty in the works."

Hesitation, almost too slight to be measured as Optimus Prime accessed second-hand data he still hadn't had time to analyse properly, and he refocused on his gunner. "Explain." Not as much a command as a request, because the data was there, courtesy of his own team, but he strongly suspected this had to do with human military, and there had been a lot to sort out after he had been brought back online, and he didn't wish to overlook something.

"He chose sides. It wasn't the human one."

"We are allies, Ironhide." Optimus Prime's voice was calm but the objection lacked any serious conviction as he watched his weapon specialist. "To choose to assist us in this-"

"-Broke at least half a dozen of their laws," Ironhide finished for him. "Mutiny for conspiring with us. Failure to obey a direct order, conspiring against Galloway, and providing false orders for his men, for a start. Treason, if his superiors take a particularly dim view of what he did. Make no mistake, Prime. The fact that his General sent support changes nothing. He has no future in their military after this."

"We are not the enemy," Prime said quietly, but his expression was troubled.

"Some would disagree. He has made powerful enemies on our behalf to keep this alliance going. Half a dozen laws," Ironhide repeated, "In the very least. He intends to take the full blame for this, his actions have shown me as much. If he does, the NEST team will need a new leader but the extent of their loyalty to us will not be too closely questioned."

"I am surprised to hear you, of all people, suggest using a scapegoat." Prime said, and it wasn't a judgement as much as a simple observation. "You know he did not lie to his men."

"The evidence will say otherwise."

If there was any yield in Ironhide's voice, Optimus didn't find it, and he fell silent as he watched the gunner, processors working fast to catch up with the reasons behind. Ironhide simply waited, unmoving, a black monolith against the grey of the carrier behind him. He understood their Prime's hesitation. To plant evidence against a respected, well-liked ally, even with the permission and blessing he would doubtlessly give if asked...

"You know more of politics than you would admit to," Optimus finally said and even if there was no change in his stance or voice, no sign at all that he had reached a decision, Ironhide knew the argument was won. His Prime would still want to hear his reasons, but the argument was won.

"You are right," he continued. "I may not agree with the methods, but... We can not afford to lose the NEST team. We need our allies now more than ever. If Major Lennox takes full responsibility, they will go free."

Another pause and Ironhide suspected he knew what went through their Prime's processors. Concern, worry, guilt – he knew him well enough for that – and following right on their heel, that familiar thoughtfulness as he considered the situation and any other courses of action, of which there were precious few.

"Still, he has a family," Prime finally said. Mate, sparkling, both at home while the human fought at their side, as if Ironhide didn't know.

"So has the boy," Ironhide retorted. "And I doubt you would prevent his parents from visiting him." He hesitated, barely noticeable, before he continued. "Families can be relocated, Prime. He thinks like us. He curses in Cybertronian terms. He knows the weak spots of Decepticon shielding as well as any Autobot does. It's luck that he has never had to choose between two loyalties before. He made his choice when he brought us to Egypt and he knew the price of it. He is ours in all but name."

Silence again.

"He would make a good liaison," Prime said quietly. "Perhaps it was always meant to happen. His superiors were never... enthusiastic about this alliance. There has always been those who believed he was too loyal to us to hold this position. Some will be angry that we interfere in this by claiming him as a citizen of Cybertron, but most, I believe, would prefer to simply see the matter settled. To dig too deep into this may reveal more than anyone would like. A court-martial would provide some closure and serve as a warning to his successor on behalf of his superiors not to make that same mistake."

And a court-martial there would be, Ironhide had no doubt of that. With the target of it conveniently unavailable, too, he also didn't doubt that the sentence would be harsh. Let the humans take out their anger on the few of their kind that actually fought for their future. Fleshling logic at its finest.

Optimus Prime watched him for a long moment, and Ironhide sighed and answered the question their Prime did not need to ask.

"Will he hate us for this?" Ironhide asked. "Yes. For a while. He will do it for his men and agree to the planted evidence, but there will still be a part of him that counted on arguing his case in the court-martial and getting away with a mild sentence. A stain on his career, but worth it. He would still have his name and respect for doing what he did. We will take away his command, his human rank, his citizenship, his reputation. Doing this would be a direct admittance of guilt and more than a few might see it as a coward's way of evading the consequences of his actions. Treason, even, in some cases. Will he accept it in the end? He adapts. He adapted to us, to the 'Cons, to fighting a war that was never theirs. Yes. Given time, he will understand. He has a place and a purpose here. As long as he knows that, he will adapt."

Optimus Prime nodded slowly, and Ironhide suspected he knew what went through those processors. It was a brutal thing to do to a warrior – to an ally, no less – but this one was too valuable to lose to politics. They could work around it, but in the end, it would be easier for all if he was simply not part of the human command chain anymore. He was a veteran of this war in human terms and the 'Cons were still out there. They couldn't afford to lose any allies these days.

Once, Ironhide would have hated himself for what he had put into motion, but that was a long time ago. Lennox would understand eventually. Most would come to see it as a punishment, exile for however long his life would last in their war, but Lennox would adapt and understand. It was war and war demanded sacrifices.

"We do not have much of a choice, then," Prime said, echoing what Ironhide already knew. "You are right, of course." A flicker of hesitation. "I had planned to wait to bring it up again until the situation settled down, but in light of this most recent development... Yes. I will bring it to their attention. I had a suggestion drafted already. Waiting would be wasting time we may not have."

Ironhide nodded, released tension in his body that he hadn't even been aware of, and then Optimus Prime's attention was back on him. "Someone will need to inform Major Lennox. He will need time to... come to terms with it. It is his country and he has served its military loyally in his adult years. He may not accept this easily."

"It's war," Ironhide said, more gruffly than he felt, and left _and it's better than the alternatives_ unsaid between them. "It was my suggestion. I will speak to him."

Optimus Prime nodded, and Ironhide ignored the brief gratitude in his features. Their leader had enough on his shoulders. Lennox would not take it well, Ironhide knew. He would have felt the same in the human's place. It didn't change the fact that there was no other obvious choice, and that whoever confronted him would have a very angry human on their hands, and Optimus Prime was still Optimus Prime and still cared. There was no reason for him to have to handle that part of it. This was military business involving a brother in arms and this...

...This, Ironhide could handle for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Four Conversations William Lennox Had With the Autobots - and One That He Didn't (Yet)

**Summary: **Sequel and conclusion to the first 'Four Conversations'. Will tries to deal with his situation. Ratchet and Ironhide help, in their own way. Slight AU.

**A/N:** I'd planned it as a one-shot but mmouse15 on LJ wanted to see the result of the last conversation between Ironhide and Optimus. The bunny bit and it ended up as a sequel/conclusion.

****

1.

****

It took William Lennox a few moments to wake up enough to realise that his military-issued cellphone was ringing and another several moments to remember that it had actually been turned off. That narrowed down the identity of the caller considerably, and a still-groggy look at the display confirmed his suspicions even as he answered.

"'Hide? What happened?"

Ironhide, calling at oh-four-hundred. They were in the middle of the ocean, on one of the most advanced aircraft carriers in their navy, and Ironhide was calling him in the middle of the night. Just like that, Lennox's tiredness was gone. The Pit-spawned 'Cons were still out there, and they had all learned the ineffectiveness of human weapons when Megatron was brought back, and he knew damn well that if the 'Cons really put their minds to it, there was a slag lot of good that even an aircraft carrier could do against-

"We are not under attack, Major Lennox. There has been no sighting of our enemies. Your presence, however, is required in other matters."

It didn't sound like an emergency, Will could read his guardian's voice that well, and a bit of the tension left his body again. Some, but not all. It didn't sound like an emergency, but that didn't change the fact that everything about the situation felt off. No debriefings scheduled for another four hours. Everyone human who had been involved in the battle in Egypt were, presumably, asleep, which left only their alien allies to be the cause of it.

"Let me get dressed. Outside in ten?" he asked, even as he was still trying to get his bearings and locate his uniform. At least he had the room to himself.

"Acceptable," Ironhide agreed. The connection died and the sudden sinking feeling in the pit of Will's stomach grew stronger.

_Slag._

The uneasy feeling and the echo of Ironhide's sparse words stayed with him and added an urgency to his movement and he was on the deck eight minutes later, fully dressed and breathing hard from his run up the stairs. Ironhide was there but it was the Topkick waiting for him, one door open in a silent invitation. Will hesitated for only a moment and then he crossed the flight deck and slipped inside the massive truck, soft leather seat creaking softly as he sat down.

The door closed beside him of its own accord and he ruthlessly killed the sudden apprehension he felt at the sound it.

"Soundproof," he concluded, and the truck gave an affirmative rumble. "Privacy, then," Will continued, and that explained why Ironhide was in his alt-mode. Will was good at his job and he wouldn't be if he didn't have some well-developed instincts and right now every alarm in his mind was going off.

The Topkick stayed silent and Will carried on.

"Could be a couple of reasons for this that I could think of, but I'm going to guess that you've got some bad news and you don't want it public knowledge just yet." He hesitated for just a second and then voiced the dread that still left a knot in his stomach, "You're leaving."

"We are not. This planet is home now," Ironhide stated and his voice left no room for doubts - and still it did nothing to make Will feel any better about the situation.

Ironhide fell silent again and Will watched the world through the windshield as he waited for his guardian to get to whatever point he wanted to make. It was dark outside and while there were always people on duty on an aircraft carrier, none of them were out on the flight deck at the moment. They were busy inside, he knew, with the threat of the 'Cons still hanging over them, but outside it was silent.

"The command structure between NEST and Autobots is complicated," Ironhide finally began and drew Will's attention back at him, eyes narrowing slightly at the truck. It could have been just an observation, but Will doubted it. Ironhide had his reasons for everything he said, and command structure had never been much of a topic between them before. While it did put the large mech as Will's superior, it had never been needed – it was Ironhide, and he didn't have to give orders to be obeyed. It was a strange topic to bring up and there was something about the way he said it that put every instinct in Will's body on edge. It was Ironhide's voice but something sounded... off. Optimus Prime could give even a casual observation all the weight of a supreme commander of an alien species through his voice alone. Ironhide could, too, but normally didn't, because he worked with beings who were used to following directions and his cannons alone were intimidating as was. Right now, though, even with no one around to need to intimidate, Ironhide's voice still held an echo of that commanding presence, and Will's reply was more cautious than it would normally have been.

"It is. You pulling rank on me, 'Hide?"

"Do you acknowledge that I can?"

That question was easily answered, at least. It didn't matter that those particular regulations had never been necessary to use. They were still there and there wasn't a single person in the NEST team who wasn't willing to take orders from the Autobots if needed, Will had made sure of that from the start.

Ironhide was waiting and Will nodded in response. "Yes... sir. As long as it doesn't go against human interests, NEST protocols put you as my commanding officer."

The 'sir' was added almost as an afterthought. He knew the mech undoubtedly had its reasons for that question and if that was how Ironhide wanted to play...

"You know you don't need to, 'Hide. Whatever it is, all you have to do is ask."

Something in the truck made a soft sound, and if it wasn't because this was _Ironhide_, Will could have sworn it sounded almost regretful. As it was, he was willing to chalk it up to the large mech still not being completely back to normal again after the massive beatings he'd taken in the final battle.

"Based on your behaviour, I assume you intend to take full responsibility for not taking us to Diego Garcia as your orders were." It was not a question and even if Will had intended to answer, he had no time before Ironhide carried on. "We will ensure that the evidence shows you provided your men with falsified orders."

Because yes, whatever happened, he was royally slagged, and he had managed to forget that for a few blissful hours of sleep. He hadn't mentioned anything to Ironhide, because it wasn't the Autobots' problem, but it seemed that the weapon specialist had figured it out on his own. Will wasn't surprised to find that he was actually relieved at that. At least he would have someone to talk to about it now. It wasn't something he was going to burden his team with, although he had no doubts they all knew.

"I'd appreciate it," he finally said, and the words were sincere even as he pushed aside a fleeting feeling of nausea at the thought of someone essentially setting him up like that. It was his team. He hadn't lied to them and part of him resented the implication that he had.

Not that it mattered. Planting evidence would keep his team safe, and that was his prime concern right now. The fact that he was going down did not mean he wanted to take them with him. If increasing his sentence a little would keep them out of it, he was more than willing to play that game. "If that was your concern, 'Hide, you didn't need to pull rank. I mean it. I'd be grateful. It'll keep them out of the line of fire, and we need a veteran team right now. We don't have time to train a whole new team."

"Indeed."

Silence.

_Oh, slag it all._ Will took a breath and steeled himself for what was to come. The whole thing was getting ridiculous and whatever was going on, Ironhide's behaviour did not help. It would be easier for everyone to just get it over with.

"Whatever it is, 'Hide, just tell me."

"Optimus Prime agrees with you. As do I. We can not afford to lose allies. We have few enough as it is and Megatron's revelation to the world of our existence will not help things."

Another slow breath and Will closed his eyes, putting words to plans he had already mentally made himself but not been willing to speak out loud until now. "The term is 'scapegoat'. It's okay. I don't mind. I know Galloway wants my head for this. I knew it when I did it, and I'd do it again. It got us Optimus back. I'd say that's worth it."

That silence again, and suddenly Will wanted nothing more than reach out and shake the Topkick, but it wouldn't do him any good and instead he grasped his last few straws of patience and tried again. "Just... _tell me_, 'Hide. Fine, I'm screwed, I know that, but the way you're acting, I wonder if you plan to wrap me up and dump me with Megatron as a sorry-for-ruining-your-plan, let's-interface-and-make-up gift."

Was that a growl? It was a reaction, at least, and finally Ironhide spoke again. "We intend to make you a citizen of Cybertron."

And whatever Will had expected, that most definitely wasn't it.

"... I'm human," he said in lack of anything better, because his mind had ground to a halt, and whatever parallel universe he had just found himself in, it wasn't welcome.

"Optimus Prime tells me we are a tolerant species."

Was that amusement in Ironhide's voice? It was too early for that, or too late, and all Will really wanted was to sleep and wake up in two days, finally rested and able to deal with it all again.

"'Hide..."

He wasn't begging but it was close and his guardian must have noticed that as well as he continued. "You are right that we cannot afford to lose any allies now, and that includes you, Major Lennox. For that reason I brought the suggestion to Prime and he gave his blessings. The court-martial will take place as you already knew. You will take full responsibility as you had planned, but the sentence, whatever it may be, will not be carried out. As a citizen of Cybertron, on Cybertronian soil, you will remain with us. We have no extradition treaty with human governments, nor do we intend to sign one."

And, Will's mind realised, if that had been solely good news, Ironhide wouldn't have been so reluctant to tell him. He was about to ask when the penny dropped and the sinking feeling in his stomach turned to nausea that made him grip the armrest tightly in a desperate effort to make his vision stop swimming.

"I won't be able to set foot in the States again." It wasn't a question, because Will had already concluded that much. "I have a wife there, Ironhide. I have a _daughter_."

"Families can be relocated," Ironhide replied, and Will wasn't sure if the faint regret in the voice was real or nothing more than a figment of his imagination. "Perhaps when this situation has calmed down enough, it will be possible to gain a pardon from your President without making your team a target in the process."

Hands clenched, unclenched, as Will tried to get his emotions back under control. This was insane. Whatever the hell his allies were up to, it was absolute insanity, and they couldn't be serious. Optimus Prime had come back from the dead. Everyone's brain would be rattled from something like that, and maybe Ratchet missed some vital injury in Ironhide's processor, because if they thought he was just going to _accept_ this-

"'Hide-"

"You told me I did not need to 'pull rank on you'." Ironhide cut him off before he could get any further. "I was aware of that. However, it would be... unkind to expect you to agree to this out of comradeship alone. It is a position we do not wish to place you in. Therefore, this is not a request."

-They were absolutely insane, and the dread took a tight grip around his heart as the mech's words registered and he realised what would come next. Ironhide was a warrior, Ironhide had commanded troops, and Lennox knew that tone when he heard it, unyielding and deadly as a blade.

"I am your commanding officer. Do you understand your orders, soldier?"

It was his voice that answered, but he wasn't even aware of speaking, years of habit and routine taking over when his mind could not and the voice was weak but steady where he hadn't thought he would even be able to speak. It wasn't an order Ironhide could have forced him to follow, it went against any number of regulations, but it didn't matter. NEST had never been a normal organisation.

He closed his eyes.

"Yes, sir."

And his world collapsed.

****

2.

****

There had been a note on his bed when he got back, neat handwriting letting him know that he was exempt from his scheduled debriefing on account of health issues, and a text message on his phone from Ratchet to clear up his confusion.

'I let your General know that your concussion still troubles you. It would not be conductive to your health to be forced to behave as if all is well.'

_Thank you, Ratchet_, he whispered soundlessly, and then sent the same in a reply to the mech, because that was one small concern less to shoulder, at least. Trust the medic to think of details like that. Of course, it also meant that all of the Autobots likely knew what was going on by now, but that wasn't really a surprise. Ironhide had made it an order. There hadn't been any doubt about the outcome of the conversation, then.

It was only half an hour since Ironhide had pulled out of bed, and he knew he should try to sleep but knew just as well that he wouldn't be able to. His head was overloaded, too many thoughts to keep track of, too much he didn't want to consider about all of this, and he stared unseeing at the small clock on his cellphone. Epps would be asleep. He couldn't call his wife about this, not when he didn't even know the details. Ironhide would have been an option once, but not tonight. He knew - and on some level even appreciated - what the mech had done for him in making it an order, but it didn't change the fact that his anger and fear and nausea needed someone to blame and Ironhide was a convenient target.

He wasn't even consciously aware that he had moved until he was standing outside an improvised door that towered above him and he hammered firmly on one of the support frames in greeting.

"What?"

The voice sounded gruff but not snarly enough to be in the middle of an emergency and Will stepped inside and was met by the familiar appearance of their medic in the middle of his makeshift and temporarily empty infirmary.

"Do you... need a hand with anything?" he asked.

He looked like scrap and he knew it, but he didn't particularly care. Medic. Medic was good. Anything to get him away from Prime and Ironhide and humans who didn't know a damn thing about what was happening right under their noses. Mikaela might have been there with Ratchet to learn from him, but right now she was asleep, like a sensible, normal person, and so for the moment, the infirmary was populated only by an Autobot... and one lost human.

If Ratchet had had eyebrows, Will would have said the mech had arched them at that, but he didn't. Instead the medic gave him a thoughtful once-over before he responded.

"You do not look well, Major."

"Not 'Major' for much longer," Will said quietly, because it made it a bit easier to accept every time he repeated that to himself. "I won't get in your way. Anything I can give you a hand with, let me know. I learned the basics from being around Ironhide and you look like you need a break, too."

Ratchet watched him for a moment longer and then he nodded and held one hand down to Will. Used to Ironhide, it was always an interesting experience to be this close to the rest of the Autobots. Like humans, they had their own particular looks and mannerism and even the short lift from floor to Cybertronian-sized table felt different – gentler, almost – than when Ironhide did it.

"Some of my instruments were affected by the sand and dust," Ratchet said and pointed to a crate-sized piece of machinery next to where he had placed Will. "They still function but will need to be cleaned to avoid any unfortunate breakdowns."

There was a human-sized box next to it, and Will saw several rags sticking out from it, along with a variety of human-sized tools. Mikaela's toolbox, probably. With the many debriefings going on, he wasn't surprised she hadn't had time to start yet.

He nodded, his gratitude genuine, and not just for the distraction he had just been given. "Thank you."

Ratchet made a small nod of acknowledgement and went back to his own tools and continued the careful sorting of them that his human visitor had interrupted. "Arcee is in recharge," the medic continued and answered Will's unspoken question. "Bumblebee is due for his second round of repairs in twelve of your earth minutes. Small breaks, I suppose, keep all of us marginally sane in these circumstances." One large hand touched a delicate tool affectionately before he continued. "Sorting my tools brings a bit of order to this chaos. It is all I can ask for at the moment."

There were a couple of clean rags in the toolbox and Will picked up one of them and carefully started on the complex piece of machinery. He didn't know what it did, but that didn't really matter. He trusted Ratchet to know that it was both turned off and harmless to humans, and dirt was something he was used to dealing with, whatever it might be stuck on. The only difference between cleaning this and his weapons was the purpose and complexity of it.

"It may not be forever, Major. Things change."

Soft words, for a mech, and not what he was used to from Ratchet, but then he usually only happened to talk to the mech in the middle of emergencies and not all of their allies were cooperative patients.

"Ironhide told me as much." A deep breath, his fingers gripping the rag tighter than needed as he worked on the machinery. "Thank you, though. I just... I'm used to being away, Ratchet. I miss my wife and my daughter but it's my job. It's just different when you don't know it's only for half a year, or nine months, or however long it may be. Maybe everything will be back to normal in a few years and I'll have a nationality that originated on Earth again and this whole mess will have solved itself without landing me in jail or something. And you know, maybe it won't. Maybe Galloway's types will always be in control, and next time it's Epps or whoever takes over that needs to take the fall, and we'll always be stuck in exile because we did what we had to do to keep the planet in one piece."

He was silent for a moment and then continued as the medic just watched him. "I appreciate what you're doing for me. I appreciate that my team won't take the scrap for this. I just... need some time."

"I would be surprised if you did not," Ratchet said quietly. "Did Optimus consider all the consequences before he agreed? Yes, he did. He's too compassionate of a leader not to. It does not change the fact that you are the one who will live through those consequences, not him. You do not need to be present for the negotiations. You know the outcome already. Rest if you need it. Stay here and help, if that's what you need – the worst of the emergencies are over and you do not make a pest of yourself here as some patients I know."

Will's lips twitched in pale amusement at that. "Patient, huh? Work's the prescription, then?"

Ratchet just nodded. "I believe it's the right one for you. Leave when you feel tired, Major. Until then, I would welcome a helping hand."

****

3.

****

The morning after they returned to Diego Garcia, Will caved and found Ironhide at the Cybertronian-sized training ground in one of the more secluded parts of the base. He had been stunned the first time he had seen Ironhide's cannons in action outside of battle and even now they didn't fail to impress him.

Ironhide, with his usual uncanny awareness of Will's whereabouts, lowered his cannons and turned to look at his human change. "Major."

"Not anymore," Will replied and his voice was a lot calmer than he felt. "Optimus is still working out the details, but it's pretty much official now. I'm still a Major in human terms, but that's gonna go in the court-martial, I'm sure. If Optimus wants me to have an official rank, he'll have to figure something out."

"He will," Ironhide stated with no doubt in his voice, and Will wondered for a moment what a rank like that might be. It wasn't an area he had talked much about with Ironhide at all.

"You came here to find me," Ironhide continued, and it was not a question. "Your heart-rate is elevated, as is the level of adrenaline in your blood."

"Fight or flight, 'Hide, but there's nothing here I can beat up to make everything better again and running won't do a damn bit of good." He took a deep breath and steeled himself, because he knew Ironhide well enough to know that he would not approve of what came next. "You've trained Autobots in close combat."

Ironhide nodded and the pair of blue optics narrowed on him, silently prompting him to continue.

"Then train me, too."

Blue optics locked with brown eyes and William Lennox didn't back down. The mech wasn't going to like that, he had known that the instant the idea had appeared to him. It didn't change a slagged thing to him.

Ironhide made a sound Will couldn't quite interpret. "You're human."

"I'm _Cybertronian_, Ironhide," Will snapped back. "You and Prime took care of that. I'm one Autobot tattoo on my aft short of being one of yours. Fine, I can't pick up your weapons. I can't tear out some 'Con's throat with my bare hands. So teach me stuff I _can_ do. You made me a target. You think Megatron's going to be happy a pathetic fleshling was legally made a Cybertronian? Like it or not, 'Hide, I am a target now. I'm not just some random allied squishie anymore. I'm an actual member of your fraction and they will target my aft for it the moment they find out. If I'm going to be targeted as an Autobot, you damn well better train me as one, too."

This time the sound from Ironhide was clearly identifiable as a snort. "You'd be stomped on. There is a reason why you use ranged weapons."

"Not if I move fast enough." Low voice, deadly serious, and Will crossed his arms. "You're fast when you move but you're not that accurate. You can't change direction in a split second with that much mass, no matter how strong you are."

He paused and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath to steady himself before he continued. "Fight or flight, 'Hide, and I have nowhere to run. Teach me. Please."

If it was the tone of voice or the words or something else entirely, he would never know, but with a slow nod Ironhide's stance relaxed slightly and the massive cannons were powered down completely.

"You have one of your hours to convince me, Will. We start now."

****

4.

****

Ratchet had a list of things a mile long to lecture Will on, he was sure of it, but the medic had yet to say anything about it and Will submitted to his examination with the cooperativeness that he knew from experience was the way to go around Ratchet. The long abrasion on his left side from a close encounter with the ground should have hurt to clean, but didn't thanks to the miracle of alien medicine, and the broken arm he had suffered was already healing under Ratchet's competent care. Alien robot or not, he had still learned human medicine fast and added his own technology to the mix. The broken arm, Will knew, would take a week at the most to heal completely. The abrasion wouldn't take much longer to be gone completely as well.

"Can I expect Ironhide in here as well?" Ratchet finally asked and broke the silence. They were alone in the infirmary again – the proper one, this time – and while there were still injured Autobots to handle, there were no longer any emergencies on the list.

"Possibly," Will replied and carefully did not shrug to avoid aggravating his wounds and the medic. "He was limping. I can't reach that high, but a couple of sliced fuel lines and wires in a foot is still going to slow a mech down in battle."

That could-have-been-an-arched-eyebrow expression appeared again, and Will continued, expecting an angry lecture at any moment. "I'm not sure if it's something he can fix himself, if that's what you mean. I don't know that much about your anatomy. It wasn't a fight. 'Hide told me I needed to convince him if he was going to train me, so that's what I did. I know it was stupid, Ratchet, and I don't count on showing up twice a week with broken bones, I just..." He trailed off and sighed. "If I'm going to live like an Autobot, then let me at least be trained like one. Am I ever going to need it? Probably not, that's what ranged weapons are for, but you never know. It keeps me busy."

And right now, busy was what he needed and Ratchet had pointed that out himself.

"You've spent too much time around Ironhide. His masochism is rubbing off on you," the medic huffed, but there was no real heat behind it. "You're a human, not a weapon specialist with armour for processors, and you _better_ not be here twice a week like this if you know what's good for you."

"Yes, sir," Will said, and there was genuine amusement behind that even if he meant it, too. He had never quite worked out where Ratchet fit into the cross-command structure between NEST and Cybertronians before – he was a medic, and people were going to obey him no matter what – but with his new citizenship, he knew for a fact that the grouchy medic outranked him and after that many years in the military, the response was instinctive.

Ratchet nodded and looked satisfied with that, and he returned to his careful examination of Will's shoulder to remove the last few bits of concrete that had dug themselves into the wound there. "You should contact your mate."

The massive hands worked with a gentle grace that never ceased to amaze Will, and his hesitation before he answered was purely at the thought of his wife – the wounded part of his shoulder was numb and Ratchet, for all of his size, was the most competent medic Will had ever met.

"I should," he finally agreed. He still didn't have all the details but he had enough to contact her, at least. She deserved that much. She would need time to accept it, too, and with Soundwave out of orbit again, he could even talk with her without seeing 'Con interference in every bit of noise on the line.

"She would be safe on this base," Ratchet continued, and his voice was unusually gentle. "Your sparkling as well. It is young and does not yet need the services of an educational facility." Will opened his mouth to reply and then closed it again as Ratchet continued. "The base is a potential target, I am aware of that, but your family would be as well. With you as part of our fraction, they would need to be put under protection, too, in the event that the 'Cons decided to target them. I know you have thought about it, Will, and you are too similar to our Prime not to be beating yourself up over it. This is my professional advice: Bring them here. With some luck, it should be a matter of a few of your human years before this situation can be settled in a more satisfactory matter. Until then, they can be safe here."

"They'd be the only family on base," Will said quietly. "Sure, there's not a neighbour within two miles of our farm, but there's still a town nearby and there are people. There's no one but mechs and soldiers here."

"After all that has happened, Samuel will likely settle here for a time as well," Ratchet noted. "At the very least until the interest in him fades a bit. He does not need to, I am aware of that, but although his former nation would still welcome him home, it would be better for him to stay out of sight. Miss Banes would be likely to do the same due to their bond and her interest in Cybertronian medical science."

There was the familiar smell of a disinfectant even if Will couldn't feel it at all when Ratchet applied it, and then he sighed. "I can't ask that of her. She has a family back home. A few states over, sure, but not halfway across the world like this would be."

Bandages and a final, careful adjustment of the thin cast around his arm, and Ratchet returned his ruined shirt to him. "Would you have to?"

Will could think of no reply to that, and just watched the medic as he put him gently on the floor again.

"See me again tomorrow. I would like to see how the fracture heals. Refrain from training with Ironhide for a week, or next time I see you won't be nearly as pleasant. Now out, I'm busy."

Will nodded and had already taken several steps on instincts alone before he paused and turned to look at the giant mech again.

"Ratchet?" Blue optics focused on him and Will nodded again. "Thank you."

****

5.

****

He hadn't been able to think of a single good way to broach the topic and in the end he hadn't needed to. Sarah knew him and had been able to draw some further conclusion based on the time of day he called – time zones could be a slagging pain sometimes, they'd learned that long ago – and she had known something was wrong even before he could tell her.

After that, it was only a matter of explaining. Slow, even hesitant sometimes, but if their allies were going to strand him on base, at the very least they could put up with the phone-bill from a long-distance video call that stretched out to past midnight back home, where his wife was patiently listening and their little girl was long asleep.

Done ranting, done explaining, he finally trailed off and let the silence hang between them.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, because even without the Autobots being helpful on his behalf, he would still have been court-martialed, could still have ended up in jail for it, and when it all came down to it, it had been his decision that had screwed up their lives.

"Don't be," Sarah said just as softly and wiped away the dampness in the corner of one eye. "How are the base facilities?"

"Okay. Pretty high tech. Meant for long-term living, you know? Plenty of funding for this place, at least." Will was confused but answered as much as he could, anyway, because this was his wife and she deserved to know, whatever the reason for her question might be. "It's not a bad place. Nice climate. Green – got lots of plants. Awesome beaches."

On the other end of the line, with the tiny delay caused by distance, Sarah Lennox nodded slowly and then again, more determinedly. "Good. It might be nice with a garden I don't have to water all the time."

Finally catching up with her himself, Will blinked. "Sarah-"

"No," she said firmly, and even across half a world, her voice left no room for arguments. "Don't even think about it, Will. I already thought I lost you once. I'm not staying behind this time."

"The base is a target," Will objected. "They know we're here, they know it's the main base – it's already been targeted once. It could happen again."

"Our _home_ is a target now," Sarah snapped back, but he knew it was anger at the situation more than at him. "That base has giant, alien robots. I'd say that's a damn sight safer than anything the government here could manage." Then, softer- "Annabelle still has a few years before she's supposed to start school. Oh, I know it's all classified what you do, but did you really expect her not to realise Ironhide wasn't just a truck? It would have happened, anyway. Does it matter if she meets those things at home or on that base? There, at least, she won't have to worry about who she can and can't talk to."

"There'll be no other kids on base," Will tried, but it was a half-hearted argument and they both knew it.

Sarah huffed. "How long do you think that will last once Sam and Mikaela really get settled? Annabelle will be fine. I'll be fine. The house, whatever they look like over there, well, that'll be fine, too. Besides, your metal friends got you into this situation to begin with, and I intend to make it very clear to them just what I think of that. I married you because I love you, not because of what your stupid passport says. If you're staying there, then I'm going with you."

On the other end of the line, Sarah was smiling – pale, shaken, but definitely a smile – and Will found himself doing the same in return. He hadn't even dared to hope, because living on a base in the States was one thing, but this was an island in the middle of nowhere, and he hadn't even intended to bring up the possibility of moving there, because he loved her and wasn't going to put her in a situation like that. Sarah, knowing him as well as he did himself, had obviously realised that, too, and just like Ironhide, she had taken the decision out of his hands.

"I'll let them know," he promised.

And for the first time since Egypt, something went right.


End file.
